dreams
by princessludwig
Summary: a collection of short drabbles, I will add more to it consistently as I write. Gerita plus some ameripan, pruaus, aushun and sufin!
1. dreams

Dreams were a figment of the imagination, spiraling upwards into the corners of your mind, reaching in and pulling from your greatest pleasures and triumphs, pulling together a delightful world of chaotic irony and wit, and allowing one to feel at peace. But sometimes too, dreams would seek out your deepest fears, perhaps even ones you did not know you had yourself, until you woke up screaming in the middle of the night to find yourself shaking and sweating under the covers.

That was what Gilbert had told him, long ago when the _Deutscher Bund_ was all he had ever dreamed of becoming and these nightmares could not touch him.

But even as Ludwig lay awake at night fearful of the range and scale of his dreams, a pair of thin arms was there to say, "Did you know, I've seen it all too. We live and breath but never die, so let your dreams be your guide. If you let it control you, that's all you'll ever be."

On nights like this he could fall asleep and dream of warm summer days and copper curls on the hot sand, a paradise perhaps untouchable by thick fingers curled at his side.

It was a start.


	2. a perfect orange glow

Feliciano Vargas bounded up the steps to the Beilschmidt house with glee, copper curls bouncing in time. He really wasn't supposed to have the keys, nor did he ask to come, but Gilbert had lent him the spare set, and really, Ludwig never minded much anyways. It was relatively quiet here today; either Gilbert was gone or the dogs were outside, because between those four, there always seemed to be something going on.

The door clicked open easily, and Feliciano slid in silently, hoping to catch Ludwig by surprise. No one appeared to be in the hall or living room, so he moved on to the kitchen. Upon entering he was greeted suddenly by Gilbert. Leastways, he _assumed_ it was Gilbert. The person had the same white hair and wild red eyes, but somehow his skin was _orange_ and almost glowing.

Feliciano couldn't help but shriek, "GILBERT! What did you do?!"

The orange abomination spoke, "I bought spray tan."

"Okay, I can see that, but why?"

"Because I look cool."

Feliciano buried his head in his hands. "Gilbert," he mumbled, "Where is Ludwig? Oh god, what did he say?"

Gilbert shrugged, "Hiding in his room, probably. I tried to coax him out earlier, but he said," Gilbert deepened his voice comically, puffing out his chest, "'I can't be seen with the likes of you, it's embarrassing, please take a shower!' Clearly he's just blinded by my beauty!"

Feliciano sighed, "Clearly Gilbert, clearly. I hope you don't mind if I excuse myself, I ought to check up on him."

Feliciano bounded out the kitchen exit, looking back to add, "Oh and Gilbert? Please take a shower later, you look terrifying."


	3. Smile

If there was one thing Tino had to pick about Berwald as his favorite, it was definitely his smile. Berwald was usually so reserved and uptight, and his smile was tiny and rare. That Tino could make him smile at all warmed his heart immensely, even more so that the most genuine smiles were reserved for him and him alone.

Because the smiles Matthias and Emil recieved were tight lipped and thin, he smiled so small as to acknowledge them, but not to communicate too much interest. His smiles for Peter were tired and happy, worn smiles of pride and wonder at the child. His smiles at Hana-Tamago were a small quirk of the lip, perhaps even a light chuckle as fur tickled at his nose, or a triumphant display of whatever new trick he had taught the dog.

But when Berwald and Tino were alone, Berwald allowed his smile to be large and loud, his laughter to fill the room, and his face almost seemed to glow with a warm light. These were tender moments he would treasure forever. Berwald's laugh was deep and rich, though deeper still was the shade of red he would go when the Finnish man asked, "Your smile is so beautiful, why don't you do it more often?"

Tino decided in the end, this moment was a precious thing, and perhaps even more precious was simply the fact Berwald was here was enough; he didn't have to smile if he didn't want to. Berwald smiled even more at that.


	4. Space, the final frontier

A series of three three-sentence one shots for a meme on tumblr; ameripan space au, aushun military au, pruaus middle school au

* * *

"Really, I'm sure it's not that bad-you just turned the ship's computer into a gaming console- no biggie!" Alfred leaned casually over the dashboard, waving his hands about lazily and shrugging.

Kiku had to take a deep breath, "Well you see, Alfred-san, nothing would be wrong with that, I do it quite often, but I can't seem to set it back."

Alfred frowned, "At least we're on a nice barren little moon, scenic, almost romantic, you know?"

Kiku could have hit him.

* * *

"She doesn't belong here," he said, as he watched the slender woman enter the camp; many called him traditional, or just stuck in the past, but the woman seemed to spell trouble.

"She doesn't belong here," he said, as they announced Erzsebét Hedérvary was announced as commander of his unit, her apple green eyes landing firmly on him.

She doesn't belong here," he said, stroking the silky hair of her sleeping head on his chest; for indeed she didn't belong here, waiting to die in a bunker as the enemy pounded overhead.

* * *

Gilbert painted his nails black on the first day of school, insisting on wearing the darkest outfit possible, including a large set of headphones from some name brand, to which Roderich had been confused, "What do you even listen to?"

The songs were usually all the same meaningless pop he had downloaded to his phone just to impress his friends, Roderich was certain today would be the same.

"Bach," Gilbert replied, and Roderich felt a bit of respect welling up "Did you know he was German?" Roderich wasn't so impressed any longer.


	5. on the importance of dry cleaning

Ludwig refused to participate in this mess, considering how many of his brothers were likely to stay sober if he started drinking (a hint: none). Someone had to drive home and it was ridiculous enough the seven of them had tried to fit in a single van and they'd practically dragged him out here and he'd agreed because he _did_ need to go to the dry cleaners later and someone had to drive the idiots home and it was really, _really _hard to believe he was the youngest brother right now. Except of course now he was seated at a barstool trying his hardest to ignore his brothers and just about everyone else in the place and the fact everyone was offering him a drink every what? Three minutes. So he'd mentioned something about coming back later because he really actually _did_ need to go to the dry cleaners and he'd already battled all of the six demons he called siblings (not that they were demons, just a little – okay, a lot rambunctious and annoying and -) and his suits had made it into their plastic cases and were hanging in the back of his van in order of most importance. It was tremendously pleasing he could even do such a thing in his household.

He'd expected the dry cleaners to be at least a little bit less obnoxious then the bar, but such was not his luck. Yes, yes, he'd gotten his slip and handed in his clothes and that was the important part, and that had gone quite smoothly – but he'd sort of bumped into this smaller copper haired man by the door and scattered some expensive looking suits and he was pretty sure he _squeaked_and –

"You smell nice."

"I do beg pardon?" Ludwig had already stopped to offer the man a hand and was not expecting him to clasp the blonde's hand so firmly, as if in a handshake, holding him down by the wrist and whisper like it was some noble and important statement.

"I promise I'm not hitting on you but you smell really good."

Ludwig was definitely heating up and the copper-haired man was _not_ letting go and he was quite certain he would faint right there from pure embarrassment. "Please let go, sir, I, uh, what do you mean by that? I am sorry for hitting you."

The man leaned forward a bit, tugging Ludwig's hand with him now and – the lady behind the counter was sniggering at them by now, _how dare she_, but that was really of the least importance because the man quirked his head and answered, "No, I'm sorry, it just sort of…I think it smells like lavender. Your hair."

"My – it's vanilla, now would you mind letting go sir? I really have to be going and I'm sure you do too," he chuckled lightly, he definitely had babbled a little but the lady was still laughing at them and he just wanted to leave.

The man did give him the benefit of letting go and standing up, but his hands did not reach for his suit, instead shooting up to pet Ludwig's hair. "Vanilla? Really? What is it? Where do you get it?"

"Please do not touch that sir, it's my shampoo and I have no clue," Ludwig was at this point completely tangled with the other man's body, trying desperately to wrench the small fingers from his hair – which definitely needed to be combed now.

"Oh alright then," And the man finally picked his things up off the floor, planting them on the counter. He whipped around just as quickly as he had left Ludwig, extending a small red business card he pressed firmly into Ludwig's palm, "Ask for Feliciano, do call whenever you find out what that shampoo is! And I suppose," he said with the smallest smile, "I'll be seeing you here next week."

Against his better judgment, Ludwig did not switch dry cleaners that night, or the entire year.


	6. university

University, for all its delights and partying fun (or whatever university students did that had all those movies made about it – maybe American universities were just looser? Ludwig was never invited to parties) was really and truly hell in some ways. Okay, so maybe in other countries you had to pay for tuition or work yourself to death, but here – here you were just stuck your first time at the campus laundromat trying to get the damn washing machine door open – he was ninety percent sure in America you just pulled the door open.

And yes, he admitted he knew maybe one person in the room – but that was just because Francis had pointed him out at orientation as his friend and not because Ludwig actually knew him or wanted to communicate with this Feliciano Vargas, a name _he had definitely not put forth the effort to remember in the tiny hope he would have to use it very soon._ No, not at all. So he kind of shuffled his way over with his basket of nearly twelve copies of two outfits he wore constantly (something he noted most other students didn't do – not even for sleeping, which was strange, it was much easier to just buy a twelve pack of black tees the way he saw it) to where Feliciano Vargas stood, his washing machine already wide open and clothes piled inside. The brunet noted him briefly, smiling with ease.

"Uh, I have no idea how to work this washing machine, can you help me?"

An absolutely _incredible_ conversation starter, but it was really very true. Feliciano smiled back at him, putting down his things and sauntering over with ease. "I wouldn't happen to know you, would I? Not that it matters, you just seem familiar. What seems to be the problem?"

"Oh, I ah, I'm one of Francis' friends, sort of. He pointed you out to me. Ah, well, it'll sound stupid, but I can't get the door to open." It was a half lie, and he really hoped they wouldn't talk about how he knew Francis, because worst case scenario Feliciano would know Gilbert too, and well, it wasn't like Ludwig was trying to impress him or anything but Gilbert would really be a tarnish on his reputation. Kind of like this washing machine issue.

"Hmm. Haven't seen you around. What's your name? I'm Feliciano. And have you prepaid or do you need to make a deposit?" Feliciano was smiling at him and maybe he had very nice auburn eyes that suited his hair and tanned skin but then again, Ludwig was definitely not paying attention to any of this.

"Prepaid for the year. Uh, you wouldn't have, we're not that close, he just gave me a tour at orientation. I'm Ludwig."

Feliciano chuckled a little bit. "Well, have you tried just putting your student ID in this slot? It should work, I mean, if it's activated. If not you'll want to check with the front desk."

"I did not," He nearly squeaked, it was a really stupid mistake and he felt kind of embarrassed especially because this was the first impression Feliciano would have of him and probably keep forever, but whatever, right? He did indeed have his student ID in his wallet and the door did simply pull open after that, and really he hadn't needed Feliciano's help at all and oh dear what a fool he must seem like.

"That's a lot of sweater vests and slacks. Do you wear a uniform or something?" Feliciano was sifting through his clothes and this was not good he did not want people commenting on that of all things and next would come some comment from the obviously popular and fashion savvy brunet about his glasses and what a nerd and all the things kids like Feliciano said about kids like Ludwig on television because that's kind of what it was like, he thought.

"It's kind of cute actually. Like, I mean, a nice choice of clothes. Professional." And now Feliciano was stuttering a bit too like he knew he'd scared Ludwig the slightest bit or worse Ludwig was actually turning red, which, yes, he was again.

"Thanks," he whispered hoarsely, turning back to his clothes with the utmost care.

"Oh and," the brunet added, his tone still light and cheery, "Don't be afraid to ask me if you need anything else."


End file.
